“When she had asked him how he was able to kill two men with his bare hands, he had gone into asshole mode, telling her not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“He dropped to his knees, and the air between them rippled with Karou’s crippling magic and with memory. The day of her death, this is what she had seen, this: Akiva on his knees, sick with the weight of this same magic coursing off Thiago’s soldiers, and he had struggled to hold his head up and look at her—just like this—with horror and despair and love—and she had wanted more than she had ever wanted anything to go to him and hold him, whisper to him that she loved him and was going to save him, but she couldn’t, not then, and she couldn’t now, not because of shackles or pinions or the executioner’s ax but because he was the enemy. He had proven it beyond any horror she would ever have believed, beyond any betrayal she could ever have dreamed, and he could never be forgiven, not ever.But… then… her hands fell to her sides.”

“Any more questions?" I ask, poking him gently in the ribs."Do you still love me any?" Eliot asks, putting his hand over mine. "A little." "A little?" he asks, pulling away from me."A lot.""How much?" he asks."More than chocolate chip cookies.""Mmm" he says, kissing my shoulder."More than walking on the beach." Eliot kisses me on the neck."More than . . ." I pause, turning to look at him."More than?" he asks, kissing my lips.I turn toward him. "Anything.”

“He wanted to tell her that everything he had done he had done because he was broken, because watching her die had destroyed him, but there was no way to say it that didn’t sound like he was trying to pin the blame outside himself”

“She put her hand in his, and he clasped it firmly, knowing he had been waiting for her all his life.”

“Imagine if [Juliet] woke up and he was still alive, but..." She swallowed, waiting out a tremor in her voice. "But [Romeo] had killed her whole family. And burned her city. And killed and enslaved her people.”

“Death," said Akiva. His life was leaving him fast now that he no longer held his wound. His eyes just wanted to drift closed. "I'm ready.""Well, I'm not. I hear it's dull, being dead."She said it lightly, amused, and he peered up at her. Had she just made a joke? She smiled.SmiledHe did, too. Amazed, he felt it happening, as if her smile had triggered a reflex in him. "Dull sounds nice," he said, letting his eyes flutter closed. "Maybe I can catch up on my reading.”